


Change in Heart

by Bonecrestdragon



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonecrestdragon/pseuds/Bonecrestdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Altair returns to the Bureau with bloody injuries and a guilt-ridden heart, he seeks out Malik for both guidance and comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first posted on Fanfiction.net (You can still find the first part there), but upon receiving flames on many of my other AC fics I moved it to the relative safety of this site.

I've been wanting to finish this for a while now, but I never had the drive. But now that it is finished, enjoy! I don't own AC or it's characters. 

For now, this is a oneshot, but if you think it doesn't feel complete-or want some smutty-smut-smut- just tell me and I'll write another chapter.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malik straightened up from his work, stretching his cramped muscles. Night had already fallen outside, and the city was eerily quiet. He couldn't help but wonder where Altair was. The novice had come to the city not three days ago for an assignment, and Malik had already lost track of him. The chime of a small bell pulled him from his thoughts, and he rushed over to his window to let the person in. The bell was placed there solely for assassins, seeing how they were the only people who could comfortably reach a second-floor window. Sliding it open, he's surprised when a bloodied Altair nearly falls on top of him. Closing the window, he pulls Altair over and sets him on the bed.

"Safety and peace to you, brother," came a soft, almost unfamiliar whisper. Altair's voice sounded so weak, almost like his voice when he first found that Malik had lost his arm. Malik had never blamed the Altair, but that had never stopped him from blaming himself.

"Safety and peace to you as well, Novice. Now would you please explain to me what happened to you? You look like the birds my cat regularly drags in from outside." Malik's voice came out as an edgy hiss. Not that he didn't have any right to be angry; Altair had reported in once, just to pick up the contract, disappears for three days, then comes back half-dead. Of course Malik is going to be angry. He tugs off the robes covering Altair's shoulder, which seems to have taken the most injury. Even as he begins to wrap the wound, the novice pulls a blood-stained feather from his belt, holding it in a way so that Malik can see it clearly.

"Take it. I will handle this," He says, placing the feather in Malik's hand and finishing what Malik had started on his arm. Malik walk back to the counter where he was working earlier and placed the feather in its box, being sure to hide it well.

"I'm assuming, mostly from the kinds of wounds you sustained, that you had guards after you?" Malik implores. He has to work to keep his voice steady. Altair nods.

"Yes, but no longer. I made sure to deal with them before coming anywhere close to this place." Malik sighs in both annoyance and relief. He gives Altair a glare that says," How many?"

"No deaths that I know of, but a few may result if they do not take care of their wounds soon." The guilt in the novice's voice surprises Malik. The Altair he knew would feel shame at not killing them. But this Altair seemed to hate having to hurt them. What happened to change you so much in so little time? Malik wondered. Instead of voicing his thoughts, all he could come up with was," You've grown, Novice." The smile that graced his face was one that Malik would do anything to see again.

Malik let Altair sleep on the only bed that night, more out of concern than anything else. Concern that was well-placed, as the younger man developed a fever near the middle of the night, one which did not break until well into the afternoon of the next day. Altair didn't even wake until evening came again.

"M-malik?" Altair groaned. Malik was at his side in seconds.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked, cautiously replacing the wet cloth on his forehead. Altair nod, and tried to sit up, but was pushed down by a gentle hand.

"Not quite yet, Novice, you are not yet well enough," Malik chided softly as he forced Altair to lie back down. "Lay here and don't try to move yet. I will go get you some food." He stood and rushed downstairs, leaving Altair to ponder his thoughts.

Malik returned as quickly as he could. The novice's fever concerned him; it wasn't often that he let himself get sick. Placing the bowl of soup he had brought with him on the table by the bed, he reached over to help Altair into a sitting position. As Altair ate, Malik pulled back his robe to check the wound on his shoulder. Surprise colored Malik's features when he saw that there was no sign of infection.

"Are you feeling well now?" Malik asked, wrapping the wound again in clean bandages. Altair only nod, seemingly concentrating on eating with his off-hand and not spilling food on his gracious host.

"You're healing well, but I think you just need rest." The eagle of Masyaf only nod again. Malik took the empty bowl from his lap and set it on the bedside table before pulling a chair up and positioning himself across from the novice.

"There is something bothering you," the Dai said pointedly. Altair sighed, leaning back to rest his head on the wall as Malik raised a single eyebrow at him, daring the novice to call him out.

"I've killed a lot of good men," Altair whispered, voice full of shame.

"Are you speaking of this most recent assignment? Because I would not call the one you killed a 'good man.'"

Altair shook his head violently, a frown pulling at the edges of his lips. "It was before that. Every time I take the life of a guard pursuing me on the street, or of a noble sleeping soundly in his bed, I feel the weight of their lives on me. The knowledge that I am taking a husband from their wife- a father from his children- fills me with grief. I understand that I must stain my hands in blood to fulfill my duties as a member of the Creed, but still…" A hand carding through his short black hair cut Altair short. He looked up into Malik's eyes, recognizing concern and pity- as well as many unidentifiable feelings- swirling within.

"You've grown, Novice," the Dai whispered, a sad smile gracing his face. Altair frowned in confusion.

"How have I grown, Malik? How, when every time I take a life it feels like my first kill all over again? How have I grown as an assassin when every contract, every kill, tears me apart inside?" He stared up at Malik with begging eyes, pleading for him to explain. He could feel the tears welling up against his will, all the guilt and sadness finally breaking through his tightly kept façade. Malik pulled the novice to his chest, letting the tears soak his shoulder.

"I never meant as an assassin, Altair. Assassins are meant to be insensitive murderers. But inside, they are still men. You've grown as a man."

Altair's strong arms wrapped around Malik's waist as his shaking grew stronger. But there were no sobs. Malik knew the younger man well enough to know that he rarely made any noise when he cried. He merely continued holding him and stroking his hair until his shaking stopped and the tears ceased to flow. Setting him to bed again, Malik put the candles out before climbing under the covers next to him. Brushing away a stray tear, he heard Altair hum softly. It's a melody familiar to both of them, and the Dai can feel his eyelids growing heavy. Just before he faded to sleep he heard Altair whisper, "Thank you, Habibi."

It took him until morning to realize what Altair said.


	2. Chapter 2

Malik sighed as he rested his back against the wall of the Bureau. All the candles had been snuffed out, save the one in the upstairs window. Hopefully, it would lead Altair to believe that the Dai was up in his office, working or reading. 

And hopefully the trick would be enough for said man to nab the flighty assassin before he disappeared again. 

Altair had been avoiding him, in that there was no doubt. The confusion came when Malik tried to figure out why. Why was Altair- the man he had so gently nursed back to health, the man who willingly cried on his shoulder while spilling his heart out for only the him to see- suddenly doing near everything in his power to avoid him or keep their force conversations as short as possible? It had bothered Malik since he woke in an empty, cold bed with only painful memories and a small pile of dirty bandages to remind him that the days prior had actually happened.

A shuffle on the lattice window alerted Malik to Altair’s presence. Blending with the shadows, the Dai watched the other man steal silently across the Bureau floor to the counter where Malik often conducted business. He placed a bloodied feather on the counter and looked like he was about to leave before something else on the hardwood table caught his eye. It was the book Malik had been reading during the day to pass the time between customers. Malik mentally cursed himself for leaving it out for anyone to see or take- it was, after all, a rare translated copy of a book from the orient, one that Malik had taken months to get his hands on. 

Altair, however, seemed completely enthralled by the beautifully scripted words on the page. It was a wonder that he could even see it in the dim light of the waning gibbous. The assassin picked it up almost tenderly, eyes never leaving it. Malik was surprised, to say the least. Altair had never really shown any interest in books, fiction novels even less.

Malik watched him for a while before finally moving the the base of his stairs and clearing his throat. Poor Altair was so startled he nearly dropped the book, catching it just as his hold slipped but accidentally losing Malik’s page. Not that the Dai really cared. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Malik stated, moving around the room to light a few candles and stopping momentarily to lock the lattice. The other man visibly tensed as he did.

After a strained moment of silence while the Malik secured the last latch (who the hell puts three latches on a LATTICE WINDOW?), he turned to Altair, who had been eerily silent the entire time. He was still standing still as a statue, book held tightly in his hands. Huffing in aggravation, Malik gestured to the seat beside the novice.

“Sit,” he said. “We have a lot to talk about.” They sat down across from each other, Altair gingerly placing the leather-bound book on the table. 

“I don’t see why this is necessary, Malik.” Altair’s tone matched his posture, tense and nervous. 

“Oh, but I do. You see, Al Mualim obviously intended to have use work together through this trial, and that is very hard to do when you are avoiding me every chance you get.” Malik’s last words came out a little harsher than he intended, causing the younger to flinch, but he offered no apology. 

They stayed like that for a good ten minutes, Malik breathing slowly to try and calm himself and Altair staring intensely at the dark wood of the table to try and avoid the other’s glare. He was the first to speak.

“I’m sorry, Malik. I did not mean to seem to be avoiding you. I’m just….” Malik raised an eyebrow at the younger man’s reluctance. 

“You didn’t seem to have a problem telling me how you felt when you stayed here last,” the Dai pointed out, causing Altair to laugh bitterly.

“I know, I know,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table and cradling his head in his hands. “I’m just confused. And distressed. But mostly, confused.” 

Malik frowned. Knowing better than to push the Eagle when his mind was in rabble like this, he merely stood and began to snuff out the few candles that he had lit earlier. 

“You can rest here for the night- inside, it’s too cold out for you to sleep in the garden and not get ill again. We will speak more on this tomorrow, so don’t even begin to think you can weasel your way out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was fun. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The smut will come in the next chapter, I promise.


End file.
